


Birthday Treats

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [68]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 17:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16769668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Astrid wants it to be the best one yet.





	Birthday Treats

**Birthday Treats**

**-**

“You can’t come in here!”

Upon closing the front door behind him, Hiccup was immediately shoved out of his own kitchen by a petite blonde fury. He’d been perplexed when he’d seen a light on inside, since he was supposed to be alone while his father was off on a political venture. But he’d just shaken his head and assumed the chief had gotten home early. He did _not_ expect to find his girlfriend covered in flour and chewing her nails at the oven. 

But it would seem the day had a few surprises left for him.

“ _I_ can’t come in here?” he blurted, nearly stumbling over Toothless in Astrid’s haste to get him away from the kitchen. The Night Fury made a snap at his ankles with an annoyed sniff. “I live here! What are _you_ doing here?”

“Trying to make you a birthday dinner,” she growled, her fingers leaving dusty white prints where they were knotted in his shirtsleeves. “Now go! Outside or upstairs, I don’t care, you just can’t be in here!”

Toothless took one sniff of the faint burning odor wafting through the Haddock house and quickly made his decision— the dragon bounded upstairs, his tail fin making a scraping noise as it dragged along the floor. Hiccup, however, would not be so easily dissuaded.

“I told you I didn’t need anything for my birthday,” he insisted, looking over her shoulder. The counters were littered with bowls and pans of every side, the floor speckled with fallen pieces of fruit and what looked like dough. Something blackened peeked out from the trash bin, and a few pieces of flour-spattered, mystery juice-stained parchment were laid out next to a loaf of slightly-overdone bread. It wasn’t his first time experiencing his girlfriend’s hand at cooking. Toothless had been right to run.

“Your dad’s not here,” she sighed, still trying to tug him towards the stairs, but he wouldn’t be moved. “I didn’t want you to get lonely.”

Grinning, he looked down at her flustered expression and dropped a kiss on her crinkled forehead. “I appreciate it.” 

Her features softened, and the Viking took the opportunity to dance from her reach and invade the kitchen.

“Hiccup!”

“I just want to see!” Trying not to laugh at Astrid’s groan of irritation, he inspected the contents of the oven. A misshapen, half-melting tart wasn’t quite yet brown, and it smelled surprisingly delicious. He inhaled deeply before closing the door shut and moving to the counter. It was obvious that the loaf of bread had been scraped of blackened pieces, but he tore a piece from the end and pushed it past his lips.

The girl, of course, made a noise of protest.

“What are these?” he wondered aloud, moving to the pieces of parchment he’d seen. Scrawled across the top was, _“DO NOT DEVIATE. AT ALL. AT ALL, ASTRID.”_

She sent a sharp elbow into his side, shoving him away. “They’re recipes, okay? Ruff wrote ‘em down for me.” A pretty pink shade blossomed behind the splotches of flour across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Frowning, she folded up the pages and slid them away. “You know I’m not good at this.”

His grin only spread, and he looped an arm around her waist to draw her near. “Well, the bread is good. Dessert smells delicious. And I don’t know what’s bubbling on the hearth, but I’m sure it’ll be just as wonderful.” That was a lie. There was a distinct possibility that whatever stewed in the hanging cauldron he’d caught a glimpse of would be the last meal he ever took part in. But there was something inherently good to walking in the door and finding her in the middle of preparing his dinner. 

The look she gave him was flat and unamused. “Are you making fun of me?”

Shaking his head, Hiccup twisted her so that she was pressed against the counter. “I am _very_ excited about my birthday dinner.”

Her smile took a while to bloom, paired with a suspicious gaze, but eventually she relaxed against him. “Good. Happy birthday.”

“Mmm, it is.” Lowering his face to hers, he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. Then another, firmer. Then his fingers were lacing into her hair, securing his mouth against hers. She tasted like morning dew and sunshine, and something a little sweeter he couldn’t place. 

The aggravation that had bothered her at his entrance seemed to melt away, and he could feel the tension in his own muscles loosening. His father had started forcing him under Gobber’s tutelage as a chief in training while he was gone on trips, and it had made for an incredibly stressful birthday. The sight of the love of his life in such a domestic situation, though— it stirred something awake in the pit of his stomach. 

“Ah!” Astrid’s eyes flew open, and she gave a little squeak of surprise when he hitched her up onto the counter. Laughing, she offered her neck up to the slow and hungry ministrations of his mouth. “Be careful, Hiccup. There are knives about.”

“C’mon,” he mumbled against the pale skin of her throat. Her arms were wrapping around him, drawing him between her thighs. “What’s dinner without a little danger?”

Hiccup could almost feel her rolling her eyes, but when he nibbled at the tender place below her ear, she made a little gasp of pleasure. His hands slid lower down her body, teasing over the curves of her breasts and waist before dipping beneath her skirt. His blood was starting a quickening journey south, and his pants were becoming uncomfortable in record time. The thought of misbehaving on the kitchen table had his pulse racing. 

She took control of the kissing, tugging his head askance by the hair so that she could brush her heated lips across his overdue scruff. Meanwhile, he slid one hand beneath her and used the other to find the waistband of her leggings. Then he tugged them down— hard enough to disturb her balance. Astrid’s hands flew back to steady herself, and Hiccup froze as he heard a clattering.

“Please tell me that wasn’t a knife,” he begged her lowly. 

“It would serve you right,” she laughed, holding up her uninjured hand for him to see. “But no.” Despite not nearly losing a finger, though, she’d clearly stuck her hand directly into a bowl of honey. Sweet, golden goo coated her fingertips and dripped down her knuckles. 

Hiccup chuckled and cringed, gently taking her wrist. Then he bent down to catch a smear that journeyed down her palm with his tongue. He hadn’t meant for it to be erotic, but his eyes caught hers as he did so, and a heated gaze crossed his girlfriend’s expression. Astrid reached out, tracing the scar on his chin with her index finger. And then with a predatory look, she leaned forward and licked up the sticky mess she’d left. 

He heard himself groan, and his hand tightened around her wrist. Guiding her pinky to her cheekbone, he slowly drew a dripping line of honey from one freckle to the next. She sucked in a breath. His mouth moved to her temple, brushing against her skin until they met sweetness. Then he sucked gently just below her temple. In his arms, she shivered and drew him closer with her knees.

They played their game for awhile. Using Astrid’s sticky hand, they kissed away lines and blobs and smears of mouthwatering gold. It was his jaw, then her forehead, then his throat. And then, pinning her with a glance fit for a starving man, he lowered her hand and drew her fingers up her bare inner thigh. 

“Hiccup,” she scolded, giving him a gentle frown. “It’s _your_ birthday.”

His answering grin was wolfish. “Correction— it’s my birthday _dinner._ And I want dessert first.”

Astrid made a noise of protest, but her complaining was cut short by a sharp exhale when he knelt and brushed his lips against her knee. Meeting her hooded blue eyes, he held her gaze as he kissed and licked and nibbled up the pale length of skin. Every inch he drew closer to the hem of her skirt, her breath grew heavier. 

"Hiccup,” she whispered, her jaw dropping when he eased her knees apart and pressed a kiss to her heated core. The sound of pleasure she gasped was the best birthday present she could have given him. 

The pastry ended up burning. But that didn’t bother Hiccup. 

He had something sweeter. 


End file.
